


Family, Friends and the Occasional Gate-trip

by Erin87



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Original Character(s), POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erin87/pseuds/Erin87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles and short stories focusing on my version of the Stargate kids and their parents. Pairings: John/Elizabeth, Rodney/Jennifer, Daniel/Vala, Sam/Jack, Ronon/Amelia, Teyla/Kanaan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tree Climbing

**Author's Note:**

> These won't go in any particular order, so don't be confused when the kids' ages jump around. POV will also change, most focusing on the kids but also some from the parents dealing with the challenges of raising a family in the Stargate universe. 
> 
> THE KIDS: 
> 
> John/Elizabeth: Connor Evan James and Emily Lora Sheppard
> 
> Rodney/Jennifer: Rachel Elizabeth McKay
> 
> Ronon/Amelia: Max (Yes, I'm aware of how it sounds with his last name, but it fit him too well) Dex
> 
> Daniel/Vala: Thomas Finley (Finn) and Sharon Elina Jackson (twins)
> 
> Sam/Jack: Aaron Jacob O'Neill

“Emily, are you insane?!” 

The youngest Sheppard stopped pacing and looked down at her friend. “Several people have been known to think so at times,” she laughed. “And you’re usually one of them.”

Rachel frowned in annoyance and crossed her arms. “Well... that’s because you are! Look, will you just come down?”

“Why? Worried?” 

“No!” she said haughtily. “I just don’t want to have to clean up the mess you’ll make if you fall.” 

Emily smirked and rolled her eyes. “Well I’ll try my hardest not to inconvenience you then.” As if to further antagonize the other girl, she sat down on the relatively high tree branch she had been standing on, spun herself around and leaned back, hanging upside down by her knees. Her abundant mass of raven curls fell below her head, swishing gently in circles as the twelve year old grinned and gave a cheeky little wave to her audience. 

“Show off,” muttered Rachel, then, getting louder, “You know all the blood’s going to rush to your head if you keep that up. You could burst an artery or something.” 

Emily sighed in exasperation and swung back and forth a few times, gaining enough momentum to pull herself upright. “That wouldn’t happen, don’t be ridiculous,” she said, turning herself around to face Rachel again. 

She just raised an eyebrow. “Uh, hello? Head of Medicine's daughter down here! I think that makes...” 

For the second time within the space of five minutes, Emily rolled her eyes, a gesture she had perfected through the nearly constant practice that came with years of knowing Rachel McKay, and proceeded to smoothly climb down from the tree. “Hey, Rach...” she said, interrupting the tirade as she neared the bottom, “It’s your mom that’s the doctor...” She jumped the last three feet to the ground. “...not you. Just chill, okay?” 

Rachel gave a small huff, annoyed. “I make no promises I don’t think I’ll be able to keep,” she said, but she stopped her badgering. For the moment anyway. 

Knowing that ‘for the moment’ was likely as good a she was going to get, Emily simply smiled by way of a peace offering, receiving a small and reluctant, but genuine, smile in return, and started walking down the nearly invisible path that led towards the Athosian settlement where they were visiting. “Come on. Dad’s coming back soon to pick us up, and Torren’s probably wondering where we are.”

“He’ll live,” replied Rachel in amusement. “Anyway, it’s just because he knows Aunt Teyla will murder him if he lets something happen to us.” Emily laughed and they walked through the lush greenness of the woods in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rustle of the breeze in the trees and the scurry of small creatures in the undergrowth. Then– “You know you have leaves stuck in your hair don’t you?”

Emily rolled her eyes.


	2. Max

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one in defense of Ronon's kid's name. Also: beware of the fluff on this one, lol. ;)

Ronon paced. He walked from one side of the hallway to the other and then back again, swinging his arms impatiently, his eyes glued to the floor but not really seeing anything. He listened instead, his ears straining for the sound of the door opening and footsteps coming towards him.  
  
Wall. Turn. Five steps. Wall. Turn. Again and again, over and over. Still no word. Wall. Turn. He couldn’t take much more of this. He couldn’t stand this waiting. Five steps. Wall. He had never been a very patient man. Turn. The need to do something tore at him, making him want to run or yell or punch someone. Yeah, especially punch someone. Three steps. He began clenching and unclenching his fists.  
  
“Would you calm down already?!” Ronon stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to glare at Sheppard, who was sitting calmly in a chair with a magazine and a cup of coffee, watching him. “You’re starting to make me want to break something.” Sheppard set his coffee on the floor. “I’m sure everything’s going fine in there.”  
  
“Yeah, well, we’ll see how calm you’ll be two months from now when it’s your turn.”

The dark haired pilot opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the infirmary doors hissed open and Ronon instantly forgot about his friend.

He rushed towards the emerging doctor. “Well? How...?”  
  
Jennifer smiled happily at him, nodding. “It went well. They’re both fine.” Ronon let out a deep breath he’d barely realized he’d been holding, a relieved grin spreading across his face. Sheppard, who had gotten up from his chair when the doors opened, moved to stand beside him, grinning himself and clapping his friend on the shoulder.  
  
“See? I told you things were okay!”  
  
Still smiling, Jennifer held out an arm, gesturing them into the minutes-ago-forbidden infirmary. “Now why don’t you come meet your son?”  
  
Ronon half ran into the room, out of the corner of his eye seeing Sheppard give a sleeping McKay a kick in the leg to wake him up and tell him the news. He didn’t give them more than a second’s thought. There was no room in his head for anything at all but thoughts of what was waiting for him inside. He couldn’t remember ever feeling more nervous in his life. But that nervousness faded as he drew nearer to the hospital bed where his wife was resting, propped up against a mountain of pillows.  
  
Amelia heard his approach and looked up at him, smiling. She looked tired, exhausted even, her light brown hair damp with sweat, but her eyes were sparkling and in Ronon’s eyes she had never looked happier or more beautiful.  
  
“Hey there.” She freed one hand from under the bundle in her arms and reached for him, beckoning him closer. “There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”  
  
He took her hand and allowed himself to be drawn to the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes off of the pile of blankets she was holding. Amelia smiled at his anxiousness and gently pulled down a fold of the fabric, letting Ronon see the face of his son for the first time.  
  
“He has your nose.” And he did, along with an infinitely smaller matching version of his mouth. Ronon cautiously reached out and stroked his son’s head, disturbing the soft wispy strands of dark brown hair that grew there. The baby stirred slightly in his sleep at the touch, but didn’t wake. Ronon felt his emotions rise as he looked at the tiny thing- awe, fear, an incredible and overwhelming amount of love, and a deep, fierce protectiveness such as he had never felt before. He realized at that moment that there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no battle he wouldn’t fight if it meant keeping this child safe. His son...  
  
“We still need a name,” Amelia said, lightly bringing him back to the present.  
  
“Yeah, I guess we do.”  
  
“I still like ‘Max’. It’s a nice in-between name- not too Earth based, not too Satedan. In the middle.”  
  
Ronon dragged his eyes away from the baby, considering. “Max Dex.” He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”  
  
Amelia grinned. “Well, we can always call him Maximilian and use Max as a nickname.”  
  
The thought of what Sheppard would say if he named his kid Maximilian flashed through his mind and he couldn’t stop himself from visibly cringing. He would never, _ever_ hear the end of it. Ever. And the boy was half Satedan too. His very heritage wouldn’t allow him to have such a name.  
  
The sound of Amelia’s soft laughter cleared away the visions of horror playing in his head. “You should see the look on your face! Relax, I was joking! I wouldn’t do that to you.”  
  
“Thanks.” Ronon smiled, leaned down, and kissed his wife on the forehead. “We’ll name him anything you like. Anything but that.”  
  
She smiled again and looked down at the baby, running her finger across his smooth cheek. Her face lit up with a happy contented glow as he woke up for a few seconds, revealing eyes that were the same shade of chocolate brown as her own. “Max it is then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize it is terribly old fashioned for Ronon to be banished outside like some 1950s father-to-be (and he would totally be in there for real) but I just liked the image of him pacing outside and going crazy. *shrug* 
> 
> Also, if your name happens to be Maximilian, no offense intended! ;)


	3. Guitar Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family/Romantic fluff, but hopefully not overly sweet. Enjoy. :)

Elizabeth Sheppard walked up to the door of her quarters and waved her hand casually in front of the door panel, gathering her brown curls into a high ponytail as she entered the room. It was late afternoon, and the large and comfortably decorated living room was bathed in a warm golden light that poured in from the panel of windows that took up most of the wall opposite the door. She moved towards the couch and was about to sink down into the nest of colorful Athosian throw pillows when she first noticed the sounds coming from the balcony. Floating through the open doorway was the low murmur of familiar voices and the intermittent twang of guitar strings. Elizabeth finished twisting the hair elastic around her ponytail and it snapped into place with a small thwack as she lowered her arms and stepped over to the balcony entrance. She folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the door frame, and smiled. 

They were sitting side by side on the bench that stood in front of the windows, guitars in hand – one tall and dark haired, the other considerably shorter and with hair the same shade of chestnut brown as Elizabeth’s. They hadn’t noticed her yet, so she was free to simply observe the two men in her life as they spent some quality father-son time together. John adjusted the guitar in his arms and played a small portion of what sounded suspiciously like ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’, all the while giving the boy next to him instructions on what to do. He finished his explanation. “Kay buddy, you give it another try.” 

Connor carefully placed his fingers on the strings of his child-sized guitar and slowly plucked a few notes from the instrument. Elizabeth felt pride grow within her as the eight year old managed to pick his way through the first three bars of the song without a mistake. He hadn’t had the guitar for very long – only two weeks. John had bought it for his birthday during a required trip to Earth, after six months of begging that he be allowed to play his father’s old one. Even though John had made a show of being annoyed at the pleading, Elizabeth knew that her husband had secretly been extremely pleased that he would have something new to teach his son, and had been determined from the very first ‘come on, pleeeaaase, Dad!’ to get the boy a guitar of his own. 

The halting performance came to an abrupt stop as one of the notes went sour. Elizabeth couldn’t see his face, but she could easily picture the annoyed frown she knew Connor was sporting right now. He gave a small frustrated growl and strummed the strings angrily, a discordant hum filling the air. “It’s always in that same spot!” he complained. 

“It’s okay,” encouraged John. “Look, you’re moving your fingers down too early. Don’t do this.” He demonstrated Connor’s mistake on his own guitar. “Do this.” He played the sequence correctly. “Try it again.” 

She heard Connor take a deep breath, and then he began again from the beginning. John watched him intently, biting his lower lip nervously as the boy neared the point in the song where he had messed up before. Elizabeth found herself holding her breath anxiously as she waited for the note to fall... 

He played it perfectly, pausing for only a moment to beam up at his father before finishing out the song without a single error. 

“Alright, buddy!” cheered John proudly, clapping him on the back. 

There was that pride again. Elizabeth couldn’t contain herself anymore and she burst into applause. “Bravo!” 

Connor spun around on the bench in surprise, his face lighting up when he saw her. “Mom, I did it!” 

“I heard!” She moved over to the bench and knelt down beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame and giving him a hug. “You did great!” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

He laughed and squirmed. “Eww, Mom!” 

Elizabeth laughed and let go of him, looking up to meet John’s eyes with a grin. He was watching them both with a ridiculously happy expression on his face. 

“Can I go tell Max?” Connor asked eagerly.

She smiled at him and glanced at John again with a raised eyebrow. “You’ll have to ask your teacher.” 

John smirked and ruffled his son’s wild and wavy hair. “Yeah, go ahead.” Connor hopped off the bench and ran inside their quarters. “But put up the guitar first!” he called after him. The main door opened and closed with a hiss that was just barely audible out on the balcony, signaling that Connor hadn’t heard, or, as eight year old boys often do, had chosen to ignore him. John just rolled his eyes, the smirk still evident on his face. 

Elizabeth stood up and placed a hand on her hip. “Well. A whole song in two weeks,” she grinned. “I’m impressed.” 

Her husband grinned back at her. “Yeah, I’ll have him doing ‘Ring of Fire’ by tomorrow.” 

She laughed. “Right. Sure you will.” 

He held his arms out in a gesture of innocence and put on a tone of fake indignation. “Hey, I’ll have you know I happen to be an excellent teacher.” 

“I never said you weren’t.” 

“Uh-huh,” he said in mock disbelief, holding out his hand to her. “C’mere, I’ll prove it. I’ll give you a lesson.” Elizabeth smiled and took the offered hand, allowing him to tug her down beside him on the bench. The Ancient piece of furniture was wide, and left enough room for her to pull her feet up and cross her legs Indian style. John placed the guitar in her lap. He’d had it forever - ever since the second year of the Atlantis expedition’s occupation of the city – but the fret board showed only the smallest hints of wear around the edges, and there was only one spot on the body itself where the paint had worn away, revealing the honey colored wood beneath. 

John inched closer to her and reached over her shoulder to take each one of her hands in his, slowly positioning them in the right places on the guitar, shifting her right arm so she was holding it correctly, and then gently guiding the fingers of her left hand to wrap around the neck. Elizabeth already knew how to hold a guitar, and knew that he knew that she did, but she let him show her how anyway. His warmth seeped through his thin t-shirt and spread wonderfully across her back and shoulders as he kept his arms around her. She leaned back against him. 

“Now,” he muttered in her ear, “we start with the chords.” His strong hands wrapped around hers as he led her fingers over the guitar strings, filling the balcony with the softly thrumming pattern. Elizabeth was only half aware of the sound she was getting the guitar to create. John’s face was right next to hers as he peered over her shoulder; his near perpetual stubble scratched against her ear, and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. 

They finished the sequence of notes, and John freed her hands. “See? You’re a natural.” 

Elizabeth laughed softly and twisted around in his arms to face him. His painfully handsome features were cast with a warm glow from the sun that was just short of setting, lighting up the eastern sky in front of him with gold and orange. “Well, I had a good teacher.” 

He smirked and reached up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail earlier, securing it behind her ear. He let go of the curl and slid his hand lower to cup the side of her face, green eyes staring into hers. She felt her heart skip a beat. How was it that this man, after nine years of marriage and two children, could still turn her into jelly with just one look? John smiled again and pulled her in for a kiss, one that was long and slow and sweet. He sighed contentedly when they broke apart. “You know how much I love you, right?” 

She smiled. “Yeah.” She paused as she read that emotion filling his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Good.” John took the guitar out of her lap and leaned it carefully against the the side of the bench before wrapping his arm around her. Elizabeth leaned against him with her legs tucked up under her, snug and secure in his embrace as they watched the sunset together. 

The sun had yet to sink beneath the horizon when the blissful quiet was shattered by the sound of a door opening and the loud voices of children arguing as they entered the living room. Elizabeth sighed. “Emily’s home.” The arguing grew louder. 

“... come on, it’s completely dumb...! ” said a voice that didn’t belong to their six year old daughter. 

“Sounds like she brought Rachel with her,” said John calmly. 

The same voice echoed from the living room. “... it’s totally impossible to live in a house made out of gingerbread...!” 

“And they’ve been getting into the fairy tales again...” Elizabeth realized with a groan. 

“This might take a while.” 

She sighed again and lifted her head from its comfortable place on his shoulder. “I guess the lesson’s over then.” 

“I guess so.” 

She looked at him and gave him a quick kiss. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Let’s get in there before they start a war.” 

He smiled teasingly at her. “Well if it’s war prevention we’re talking about, I can’t think of anyone better for a job like that.”

Elizabeth just smiled back and jabbed him in the arm. John laughed and they walked into the noise and homey chaos of their quarters. For a minute the balcony was still, the last rays of sunlight reflecting off the windows and bathing the now empty bench with deep golden light. Suddenly the door that led inside opened again and John walked back out, circling around to the other end of the seat near where he had been sitting. He bent and picked up his guitar, turning it around once in his hands, a small smile crossing his face as he looked down at it. Then he turned around and walked back inside, strumming a chord or two as he went.


End file.
